


What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beginnings, M/M, spoilers for ch 379, timeskip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22525573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: In Tokyo for a gig which Tendou entered him into, Semi Eita sits in a bar pondering his clothes. He needs a new look for the band, something that isn't boring and safe, but he's getting nowhere unless he goes with Tendou's outrageous magenta suit. Enter Konoha Akinori, a man with effortless style, whose offer to help sends Eita into turmoil. Does he have to stay boring and safe now he's out of Sendai?
Relationships: Konoha Akinori/Semi Eita
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo

**Author's Note:**

> AKA: How Semi Acquired His Coat
> 
> Or
> 
> Hey Carole, what would happen if Semi Eita and Konoha Akinori met?

Although the bar was dingy, Eita still caught a glimpse of the guy staring at him. At first he thought nothing much about it—not because he was immodest, but rather he’d become accustomed to attention, first when he used to play volleyball, and recently with starting the band. But almost as soon as he’d had that thought, it struck him that this was Tokyo—not Miyagi—and the gig they were here to play had not in fact been played yet.

Under cover of his glass, he cast a look in the direction of the stranger, took in his dirty blond hair and languid frame and frowned trying to recall if he knew him. The stranger seeing he’d been spotted, tipped his drink towards him and flashed him a louche smile.

_Oh, it’s a pick up._

Which was usually his cue to finish his drink and leave, or else pull out his phone and pretend to be talking to a partner.

Usually … This guy was, though, undeniably good looking, effortlessly so … _What happens in Tokyo stays in Tokyo …_

_But is that wise? Maybe it’s best to call it a night._

Yet just as he was having this internal debate, the guy at the bar made his way over, and there was something about his walk. Something loose and lazy and light, almost dance steps across the floor with the minutest of wiggles as he threaded through the tables between them.

He didn’t sit, but rested one hand on the chair back, and taking a sip of his drink before speaking. “I have been trying to puzzle it out where I know you from, and … Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club, right?”

A teasing voice. Tokyo accent.

“Uh… have we met?”

“Not exactly. I saw your team though.”

“Ah, you watched us?” A fan. He felt vaguely disappointed without knowing why, except that he was probably now in for a conversation about past players and Wakatoshi.

“I caught some of your games… well, little bits of them. And I know one of your old middle blockers.” He rolled his eyes and grinned leaving Eita in no doubt just who he’d come across. “I played for Fukurodani, by the way.”

“Oh…” Tilting his head to the side, Eita scrutinised him. “I’m not sure I remem—”

“No, that’s fine. Bokuto’s the one everyone remembers,” he replied, smiling. “I was a mere foot soldier.”

“Wing spiker,” Eita said immediately, and smiled back recognising the self-deprecation which accompanied everyone who worked with a prodigy. “Number seven?”

“Oh, well done.” He grinned again and held out his hand. “Konoha Akinori.”

“Semi Eita. Former Setter and Pinch Server. Take a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He pulled out the chair, sat sideways and angled his body towards Eita.

“You know Tendou?”

Konoha nodded. “Yup. I was at Uni with him for a while. He’s … uh … fun.”

“With a capital F,” Eita agreed. “I was going to meet up with him tonight, but … well …”

“He’s running late?”

“Very,” he growled then laughed seeing Konoha’s raised eyebrows. “He’s stuck in Kyoto and won’t be here until tomorrow. It’s not a problem.”

_Not really. He still had time and besides Satori might not be the best person to ask after all._

“So what brings you to my home town? Work? University? Holiday?”

“As much as I’d _love_ to say it was work, it’s more a hobby.”

“You prefer work to hobbies? Well, that’s a new one on me,” Konoha replied and rubbed the back of his head.

“I mean that I’d like my hobby to be my work.” He sipped his drink, waiting for Konoha to change the subject, but he stayed silent. “I’m in a band. We have a gig.”

“Oh! That sounds amazing.”

Snorting, Eita tapped his nails on the table. “Not really. It’s a Battle of the Bands type thing. Our set is three songs. We’re third on in a group of eight bands, so it’s really not that special.”

“Still exciting though, I bet.”

Was it? He guessed so. Whatever slump he was feeling now would, he knew, be dissipated once he was backstage waiting to go on. They’d perform; he’d feel like a rock god if he could slam dunk the high notes, but then …

“It’s over too soon,” he told Konoha. “What do you do?”

“Still a student, but aiming for a Masters now.” He took another, longer sip of his drink. “You’re playing in our main hall. I’ll come along and make sure I cheer extra loud for you!”

“That’s very good of you.”

“Hey, what can I say, but us volleyball guys need to stick together, ‘specially those of us in the back—” He stopped abruptly. “Sorry, that’s rude.”

He gave a tight smile. “Accurate. We’ll need your support coming up against the local bands.”

“Meh, being local might split the vote … you’ve got a fair chance. At least one in eight.”

“True. True. Thing is if we don’t stand out with our three songs,” Eita continued, “it’s more like one in sixteen.”

“Not everyone has to stand out,” Konoha started to say but then checked himself. “But I get what you’re saying. In a group or team or whatever, there should be someone who draws the attention. What are you then?”

“Singer. I play guitar, too.”

“Oh… so you’re _actually_ the one who has to make the impression.”

He nodded. “Yup. I …” Pausing he swallowed more of his whisky wondering whether it was wise to confide in someone he didn’t know, but then again, it was easier than talking this over with his bandmates who appeared to think the music would carry them everywhere. And with Tendou unavoidably detained... he hissed out a breath. “I can sing, by the way, it’s not just screeching, and I like the songs we write, but … we need some charisma.”

“A Bokuto?” Konoha smirked. “Except not as loud.”

“Sort of. Shall I spike my hair up?”

“The hair’s fine,” Konoha muttered.

“I’ve been… No, sorry, this is boring and unfair to unload on you. Do you still play?”

“Mmm.” He flapped his hand dismissing the question, and as he put his drink down, he looked, at least to Eita’s eyes, genuinely interested. “What have you been doing?”

“Thinking about clothes, that sort of thing. I am … uh … conservative to say the least.”

“Conservative can be good. I bet you look great in a suit, polished shoes, tie askew …”

“I work in a government office and wear a suit all day. This is supposed to be my release, like volleyball was at school.”

“Oh… then we need to find you your style. Teach you how to fly, Semi-san.”

He had a glint in his eye, similar to the one Tendou had whenever he’d been about to shake things up, but although Tendou had frequently exasperated and terrified him, when Konoha swept his hand through his hair, flipping his fringe off his face, all Eita could feel was excitement bubbling inside his gut.

“You’re going to tell me now you’re a fashion designer on the side, are you?” he asked and raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was a sceptical manner.

“Nope. But I know a man who is. And he’s not a local boy either.” Pulling out his phone he first checked the time, then tapped out a number. “Hey, it’s me. What are you up to right now? Busy? Cool. Only I have someone here with a wardrobe issue and—”

Eita grabbed his arm in horror. “What are you doing? I can’t afford a fricking stylist!”

Konoha pulled the phone back to his mouth. “Sorry ‘bout that. I have someone here looking to update their image. Just a few tips, something on the edgy side, that’s all. Uh… my sort of build, same height, blond. Our age.”

“Konoha!”

“Cool, cool, can we drop in? Great!” He clicked off then gave Eita a lopsided grin. “Sorted.”

“What have you done? I can’t afford a fashion designer for what’s essentially an unpaid gig in front of students who won’t remember us and who’ll get bored and throw bottles on the stage.”

“They won’t throw bottles,” Konoha reasoned. “Not glass ones, anyway. And there’s no charge. My guy will work for free.”

“He will? Why? Isn’t everyone on the take in Tokyo?”

“They might be. He isn’t. Guy’s a Miyagi boy like you. I met him through high school volleyball, and even then he had a ‘look’ that made him stand out.” He licked his lips, clearly enjoying Eita’s scepticism and discomfort. “You’ve played against him.”

“I have?”

“Mmm. Azumane Asahi, former ace of Karasuno.”

He could see him now, long hair and beard, height comparable to Wakatoshi and a frightening serve right down the line. “Whoa… the samurai guy? A fashionista? He was scary.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s really not when you get to know him, scared of his own shadow at times, but has a lot of steel and his eye for clothes is …”

Eita’s phone had beeped, the message flashing on his screen, and in a daze at Konoha’s whirlwind arrangements, he didn’t register Tendou sending him what looked like an endless scroll of pictures from a bad wardrobe. Pink shirts, yellow geometric patterns, Pokémon emblazoned hoodies, bright magenta suits and orange shirts. ‘How about this? You’d look so cool, Semimi!’ he’d captioned it.

“Save me,” Eita whimpered, and turned his phone towards Konoha. “Satori thinks I need help. He’s right, I do. My casual clothes _are_ boring, but at school it was easier to just stick to uniform or jeans but this … this just isn’t me.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, noooo,” Konoha soothed. “Colour’s not your thing, Semi-kun. You’ve got those icy looks going on. Maybe the odd accent of blue and purple, but orange would melt you away.”

Squinting at the phone and then at Konoha, Eita let out a sigh. “You sure you’re not the designer?”

“We put Azumane up for a while, so I guess these things rub off. So, he’ll be at a club later tonight if you want to meet him.”

“I have to sleep at some stage.”

“Won’t take long, we can pick his brains, possibly his wardrobe, and if you still don’t find a stitch to wear then … uh …” He stuck out the tip of his tongue and gave the slightest of winks.

An odd thrill coursed through him, quivering at his spine and he thanked whatever deity was watching over him that he’d never been the sort of boy who blushed. “What?” he husked.

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Konoha replied and sat back in his seat. “Want another drink?”

A touch deflated, Eita nonetheless agreed. They settled back to drinking and swapping stories about volleyball, leaving the subject of clothes on the back burner. And Konoha was good company, listening as well as talking, so the gaps in conversation were natural and not awkward. Yet, despite the general air of friendliness, was he imagining the undercurrent between them? Had his initial impression of a ‘pick up’ been erroneous?

Did he mind if it was? His head was spinning, so he shook it trying to clear his mind of the whirring thoughts crowding out the common sense.

_What happens in Toyko stays in Tokyo…_

“Where is the rest of your band?” Konoha asked in one of the silences, smoothing his hand across to his glass.

 _Lovely hands, long tanned fingers and …_ “Hmm? Oh, the band. They’ll be here tomorrow with the equipment. I came early to suss out the venue and catch up with Tendou.”

“And instead you’re stuck with me.”

“No, it’s been fun. You’re good company and you’ve taken pity on a virtual stranger, so thank you, Konoha-san.”

“That sounds like a goodbye,” Konoha murmured.

 _Oh, did it? Is he bored?_ “Well, maybe I should be going. It’s getting late.”

“And Azumane?”

The whisky and the possibility of farewell made him bold. “Did you really mean it, Konoha? Or was it just a line?”

“Couldn’t it be both?” He drained his glass and got to his feet, plucking his jacket from the back. “I do know Azumane and he will be at this club, if you still want to go. After that, if you want some more help then I’ll be there. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the gig.”

“You don’t have to.”

He stared at him. “I know.”

“So why are you helping?”

“Are you always this prickly, Semi?”

“Ah, sorry. I’m twitchy and nervous, I guess. But … uh … yes, I’m often prickly, even after whisky, I find it hard to relax.”

“I presume you have to relax before you go on stage.”

“Well, yes, but then the music starts, adrenalin takes over, and it’s like a wave of sunshine.”

Konoha chewed his lip. “I could suggest something to help with the relaxation.”

“Let me guess, a late night yoga class, run by … I don’t know… Matsukawa Issei, who you happen to know.”

“Uh… no … but I’m sure he’s a great guy. The club I’m heading for is low-key, and they play good music. You like dancing?”

“I do…” he said tentative because he wasn’t sure his idea of dancing was necessarily coordinated. “Or rather I like flailing.”

“Then Semi-san, would you accompany me to a club for a bit of flailing? No strings, I promise.”

“Am I dressed okay?” he asked, indicating his clean but boring jeans and the blue t shirt he’d pulled on without thinking. “It’s hardly clubbing gear?”

“You’re fine. I said it was low-key.” But he was turning up the collar of his shirt before pulling on his jacket and ruffling the sleeves, and beside him Eita felt not just low-key but non-existent. 

The club was within walking distance, and as it was getting colder, they walked quickly, Eita huddling into his parka, while Konoha belted his jacket tighter around his waist and took quick strides. At a corner, Konoha took a sharp left, looking back over his shoulder to check on Semi, gave a half smile and beckoned for him to follow.

“It’s down these steps,” he said.

“Oh, like a real … um … speakeasy!”

“You’ve been watching too many old movies,” Konoha laughed. “Yeah, it’s got that feel, but the alcohol is legal.”

Pushing open the door, Konoha stepped to the side to let Semi in first. It was dark inside, the dull light coming from orange tulip-shaped lamps screwed above small booths, and candles stuck in wine bottles. Expecting jazz music to assail him, Eita started towards the piano in the corner, wondering when the music would start, but a touch in the small of his back later, and he was being steered towards one of the booths by Konoha. There was a juke box in the corner, old fashioned like a proper Wurlitzer and Eita could see why Konoha thought he’d be able to relax here. It was laid back and chilled, a few wisps of smoke clouding from the odd table and rows of bottles along the bar.

Azumane was sitting there, a small glass of beer in his hand and a notebook on the table. With his hair loose, wearing glasses, and a purple pinstriped shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looked as far removed from the ace who’d ripped through blocks as Eita would have been working in a mine. But there was something about his intensity as he stopped drinking to add a word to his notebook, something about the frown and the way he flexed his fingers, which catapulted Eita back to that match where he watched this guy spike through Tendou’s arms, and he smiled, imagining the look on Satori’s face if he could see him ‘consorting with the enemy’.

“Oh!” Azumane blinked up at him. “Aren’t you the … um … pinch server… Shiratorizawa… uh…” He smiled suddenly. “Semi-san?”

“You remember me?”

“Your serve was hard to forget,” Azumane replied and gestured towards the padded bench opposite. “Please take a seat. Konoha-kun, you should have told me you knew Semi-san.”

“I didn’t before tonight,” Konoha said, yawning. “We ran into each other in a bar, got talking and … well, you know the rest.”

“Ah yes,” Azumane cleared his throat. “You want some advice.”

“I’d love some, but I can’t afford much. I could buy you a drink, obviously, but…”

“I’m sticking to water,” Azumane said with a soft smile. “Uhm, I don’t mind a chat. Talking to different people about clothes and fashion issues always helps.” He picked up his notebook. “You don’t mind if I sketch as we talk do you?”

“Of course not.”

“I’ll get drinks,” Konoha put in. “Whisky? And anything stronger than water, Azumane?”

“No, I’m fine,” he muttered, and picked up his pencil. “Okay, Semi, what are you looking for in particular?”

“I … uh … I have a gig tomorrow. I’m in a band, and Tendou found out about this competition at one of the universities and … well … he entered us without asking.”

“Ah…” He gave a sigh. “I know Tendou. He’s modelled for me before. Eccentric.”

“One way of putting it. Anyway, we could easily have backed out, but we decided to go for it. However unfortunately what with practise and working, it’s left very little time to think about … um … aesthetic.” He cringed at the word, but Azumane didn’t laugh, instead nodding solemnly.

“Have you performed before?”

“Yes… ish. But it was very low key, mainly to friends and it didn’t matter that much how we looked as it was more of a confidence boost. But I’m aware my clothes sense is ‘boring’ and—” He stopped as Konoha came back with their drinks, watching as he distributed them, flicked his hair off his face then slicked his hair back off his face. He’d taken off his jacket and his shirt, slightly unbuttoned at the top, looked ruffled giving him a rakish look.

“Whaaat?” Konoha said, aware of the scrutiny.

“How do you do that?”

“Huh?”

“Make it look effortless. Your clothes, I mean?”

“Hard work, endless practise in front of a full length mirror and constant critique from Azumane,” Konoha quipped.

“Is that true?” Semi asked, turning back to Azumane.

“He doesn’t need any advice from me.”

“Ahhh, I don’t know. I had sisters who liked to dress me up when I was a kid. They left a lot of fashion magazines around, and I have eyes.” He shrugged. “And I don’t _make_ it look effortless, it just is.”

“Now you’re confusing me.”

“I don’t think about it. I’m happy, I guess.” 

“He has a point,” Azumane said. “Feeling happy with your clothes is a good part of the image. If you’re happy with what you’re wearing now, then maybe it’s more a matter of making them work for you.”

“Huh?”

“It won’t matter if you’re not self-conscious,” Azumane continued. “Having said that, you’ve got it into your head that your clothes are uncool and that’s not giving you any confidence whatsoever, so the image change you need is going to have to be one you’re not only happy with, but confident about.”

“Told ya he was good,” Konoha stage whispered.

“So… what would you tell me to wear?”

Shaking his head, Azumane drew a few more lines in his notebook before replying. “I’m not going to _tell_ you anything, but I would suggest dressing to your strengths and if there’s an image you’ve ever seen in a magazine or on television that comes to mind, that you think is ‘cool’ then channel that.”

“He only has until tomorrow!” Konoha objected.

“No that’s fine. Um … glam rock meets goth.”

“What?” Konoha swivelled around to him.

“My mum was into glam rock. She still has all her vinyl records and …the flamboyant clothes, I like that look but not the colours so much,” Semi said and chewed his lip. “Tendou keeps sending me picture after picture of pink and magenta and orange and … it’s not me.”

“No,” Azumane agreed. He turned his notebook around, showing them both the picture he’d sketched of Semi, long legs encased in skinny jeans, shaded black, and a white billowing shirt. “This is simple. You could dress it up with jewellery, add some colour with a belt of scarf, although...” he scrutinised Eita closely. “You have a graceful neck, so I’d avoid anything that would cover it too much. Simple chain or a cross, perhaps.”

“I wish I were a fashion designer,” Konoha sighed.

“You do?” Azumane queried. “I’m sure it would bore you to tears cutting fabric after a while. But tell us why?”

Taking a slug of his drink, Konoha smirked. “You get to ogle gorgeous guys and compliment them, whereas I’d get called a creep.”

“I’m not a … it is work, I promise you!” Azumane whispered, mortified.

“He knows,” Konoha laughed. “I’m sorry, I am a creep, but he’s right about your neck. Hey, I know a few good retro shops round here, if you’d like to take a look.”

“Maybe,” Eita murmured and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. Neck? What? Graceful? It was a neck, that’s all, didn’t everyone have them?

“He does have an eye for a bargain,” Azumane conceded. “Konoha-san is like a pig rootling out truffles when he’s in a retro shop. You should accept.”

“You honestly don’t have to. Tendou will arrive in the afternoon.”

“With his bag of magenta and orange clothes? Maybe he’ll even throw some green in.”

Trying to disguise a shudder, because green was his least favourite colour of all, Eita crumpled. “Okay, then.”

“Great!” And then as the wurlitzer in the corner creaked into life, he gave a wide smile. “And now, we flail, Semi-san!”

“No, no nooooo.”

“Come on, it’s dark and no one can see us.”

“And my cue to leave,” Azumane said, and for a man as big as he was, he was surprisingly nimble, evading Konoha’s outstretched grasp and his ‘No, don’t go, man. Night’s young!’

“And I have work tomorrow.” He gave a bow. “It was good to meet you, Semi-san. I hope you find the style you’re happy with and … um … if you ever want to model clothes then, please get in touch.”

“How come you never ask me to model for you?” Konoha demanded, pouting.

“You’re … uh … a little on the short side,” Azumane replied as he backed away.

“I’m the same height as Semi!” Konoha protested, but Azumane had turned and fled. Konoha chuckled. “Ahh, you know the real reason is that he has a certain image in his mind. Tendou was unusual enough, and _blessed_ with height. You are … remarkably beautiful, Semi-san.”

“You’re not exactly unattractive,” Semi muttered, with sudden embarrassment as he slugged down more of his drink.

“I don’t stand out though,” Konoha mused, and gave a grin. “Come on, I want a dance.”

“But…”

“Naw, look, there’s already people up there. It’s dark and no one will mind if you flail, I promise.”

Something about his words, his intonation and the way he held out one hand that persuaded Eita onto the dance floor. Despite his flirtatiousness, Konoha Akinori had an aura of security surrounding him. He might tease, but he wouldn’t humiliate.

There were couples dancing, some close up, others skirting around their partner. A girl in a red skirt twirled so fast with her skirt flaring around her, Eita wondered how she wasn’t dizzy. But there was nothing competitive up here, everyone appeared to be dancing for the love of the music, and as he watched Konoha start with a small flick of his hips, Eita gave himself up to the beat.

It was during the second track that he became aware not just that Konoha was watching him, but he was gaining attention from onlookers sitting in the bar. Stiffening, he pulled his arms back to his sides, until Konoha reached out and touched him on the elbow. “Relax,” he mouthed.

“Why are they staring?”

Konoha leant towards him, whispering in his ear, “One – you’re good looking. Two—you dance pretty well. Three … uh … there’s no three although they might be looking at me. Anyway, loosen up, flail those arms, and pretend you’re on stage.”

It was later, after the fourth track that they collapsed laughing in their booth. Not wanting more whisky, Eita gulped down some water and let the ice melt on his tongue. “That was fun,” he said.

“And again that sounds like a goodbye.” He tilted his face to the side. “Really?”

“I’m beat,” Eita admitted. “Long day travelling and I shouldn’t push it.”

“Ah, cool, yeah, sorry, I’m a selfish git.”

“If you’re still up for tomorrow …”

“Mm, of course. I look forward to it. Do you know your way back to your hotel?”

He tapped his phone. “Google maps.”

“I’ll walk you back,” Konoha replied. “I know the short cuts.”

“You don’t have to. This cuts into your evening.”

“Nope, I’m good.” Finishing his beer, he collected the glasses on their table, took them back to the bar and then sauntered back to Eita.

It was cool outside, a light breeze whistling around them, so they walked at a brisk pace. Konoha kept up the chat, pointing out cafes or shops he liked, but also asking a few questions, giving Eita the chance to speak. And he seemed interested in the music the band played, asking about his guitar playing as well as the songs.

“Do you play anything?” Eita asked.

“Tried guitar at school but never kept up with lessons or practise – it was all about volleyball for me at that age.”

“Music was a diversion,” Eita admitted. “We boarded at our school, so when I wasn’t at practise or doing schoolwork, it was a good way to fill my time.” He smiled to himself, remembering how he’d hide in the music rooms when Tendou was on the lookout for either a training partner or someone to share his love of manga. And then there was the escape into lilting melodies, and strumming so hard his fingertips bled when he’d had to accept that Shirabu had taken his place.

“You’ve come over all intense.”

“Thinking about school does that to me. Intense times, weren’t they, Konoha-san?”

“Hmm, I was quite laid back, unless Bokuto was serving into the back of my head, but then I lived at home.” He slowed his pace, sounding fond, and Eita realised they were a mere stones-throw from his hotel. “In fact, I still do otherwise I’d have invited you back for coffee where you wouldn’t have escaped my Mum’s cake and twenty questions. It’s good cake, mind you, but she’d have asked you so much, about schools and college and if you have a good job and how we met and …” Trailing off he gurgled out a laugh. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Sorry.” Giving a sweeping bow, he grinned at Eita. “I’ve had a good time tonight, Semi-san, so thank you for letting me keep you company.”

He returned the bow, with far less flourish, but mock-formally, making Konoha laugh again. “No, thank _you_ , for taking pity on a virtual stranger.”

“Coffee shop across the road?” Konoha suggested, with a wave of his hand. “Meet you at ten?”

“Sure. Sounds good. See you then, Konoha-san.”

“Adieu. Hasta Mañana etcetera, etcetera!”

Back in his hotel room, he checked his messages. The rest of the band would arrive tomorrow mid-afternoon for the rehearsal, the lead guitarist told him, and hoped he was having fun.

 **[Tendou’s not here yet,]** he texted back, **[but I met a guy who’ll be at the gig, so it’s been fun.]**

[Ooh la la!]

 **[Not like that!]** he protested.

But, the more he thought about Konoha’s half-smile, the very effortlessness of the guy, and even the way he flipped his hair off his face, he wondered what ‘that’ could be like.

[SEMIMIMIIIIIII]] the message flashed up, cutting into his reverie.

**[Tendou, hi]**

[Ahhhhh still awake. Not snuggled in bed yet?]

**[Just got back. How’s Kyoto?]**

[All good. Sorry to have left you stranded. I’ll be with you tomorrow – middayish.]

**[I could be out, so wait at the hotel or come and find me. Rehearsing with the band at four, but you’re welcome to come along]**

[Oooh, you have plans. Anything cool]

**[Shopping for clothes]**

[No no noooo – not without me! You’ll buy another Dad shirt and Granddad trousers.]

He laughed. **[I promise I won’t]**

[Wait for me!!!!!]

**[I can’t. No time. But I’m in good hands. I met someone who’s going to help. You know him, actually]**

[Oh oh …. WHOOOOOO?]

**[That would be telling, but I’ll see you tomorrow]**

[SEMIIIIIII!]

**[Bye, Tendou. I need to sleep now]**

He turned off his phone, smirking as he imagined the cogs in Tendou’s brain furiously clicking over as he tried to work out who he’d met. And then his thoughts returned to Konoha, how friendly he’d been and ‘Wow, he’s a good dancer’.

He wasn’t in Miyagi. He wasn’t desk bound and working for a stuffy, overly-formal boss, on the fifth floor of a Sendai office block.

 _What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo_.

He allowed himself to dream.

Konoha was already at the coffee shop when Eita appeared just after ten. Waving away the apologies, he pushed out a chair and smiled as the waitress walked over to them. “I was here early for the breakfast, which is excellent.”

“Doesn’t your mother feed you?”

“She’s working an early shift,” Konoha replied, “so it’s easier for me to take care of myself. Which is what I’m doing.” He licked his lips and patted his stomach. “She’s a nurse. Anyway, I’ll have another coffee if you need to eat. Or do you want to get going?”

“Just coffee. please,” Eita said to the waitress. 

“How long have you got until your band arrives?”

“I need to be at the University at three, and we have a rehearsal slot at four,” Semi replied, “but also Tendou’s arriving at some point. He says midday, but to be honest it could be an hour either side of that.”

“Are you in touch with everyone from school?” Konoha asked, stirring his coffee.

“Mainly the team. It’s mostly full of us screaming about Wakatoshi.” He smiled. “It is sometimes hard to believe I know him, that I was on a team with him. You must know what I mean, you being on a team with Bokuto.”

He shrugged. “Mmm, but it’s … uh … I mean the guy was phenomenal—and still is—but wow, he could be infuriating! And, you know, it’s a team not just of six, but seven, eight, nine, even ten.” He drank from his cup, savouring the flavour. “I’ve not been quite as good at keeping up with everyone, but once in a while something will remind me of the good times we had, and when we do meet up, it’s like we never left school. Not sure if that’s good or bad.”

“It’s normal. We fall into patterns. Like the other setter, Shirabu, he’s at med school now, and doing very well, the only first team player to get into our school on his smarts, but when we get together, I still see the snarky kid who could be such a shit, you know!”

“Haa, yeah, I know. I watch Bokuto in a game and remember him hiding under a table when the game went bad. Was Ushiwaka ever like that?”

Eita shook his head. “I’ve known him since Junior High and the only time I’ve seen him close to losing his cool was when he met Hinata – the shrimp middle blocker for Karasuno. Do you know who I mean?”

“Oh yeah. Met him at a training camp years ago. Bonkers intense and you never knew what would happen when he was on court. Mind you, Karasuno were like that as a team.”

“Wakatoshi always wanted to win, don’t get me wrong, but there was something intensely personal about our one game against them. He plays with Kageyama now—ironically.”

“How?”

“Kageyama applied to Shiratorizawa, but didn’t get in. The kid was a prodigy even then, but …” He lowered his voice, leaning forward. “He was ‘deemed reckless’. Obviously it was the Coach Washijou’s decision, and he was all about power and focusing on our main weapon.” He shrugged. “It worked well for us for years, but … well … every empire falls in the end.”

“Reckless? I guess he could be with Hinata, but, well, I did play with Bokuto, so … Sometimes you need that spark. So, what sort of player were you, Semi-kun?”

“Ahh, I was deemed reckless, too,” Eita replied. _Reckless on court, but too damned safe in every other aspect of my life._

“Isn’t that good to know,” Konoha murmured, and gave a grin. “C’mon, there’s a great shop close by in Shibuya and we can have a good hunt through.”

They walked companionably, wending their way through the people on the crowded streets. Konoha kept up a steady stream of conversation again, and hurriedly tugged on his sleeve as they approached a side street. The shop, Eita found himself in front of was unprepossessing, with black peeling paint above the lintel, and rather faded gold lettering on the door, but as Konoha pushed the door open, the man behind the counter greeted him cheerily and by name.

“Anything new?” Konoha asked.

“Plenty. There’s a caramel coloured shirt with your name on it,” the assistant said. “The colour of your eyes, Konoha-chan.”

“Ah, you sweet talker you!” Konoha replied. “I’ll take a look, but actually we’re here for my new friend, Semi-san, who is uber cool and sings in a band, so … what you got, Abe-san?”

As Eita removed his jacket, Abe looked him up and down, a little haughtily at first (Was Eita imaging the proprietary look he gave Konoha) but his vague disapproval was replaced with interest when he took him in fully. “Slender, not too short… great arms!”

“Former volleyball player,” Konoha said as if that explained it. “We all built good muscle.”

“Any colours?” Abe asked, then chewed his lip. “Purple would suit you. Velvet suit ? I have one here.” Pulling the suit off the rail, he presented it to Eita holding it up against him. A deep purple, but with a faint silver thread running through it. Stylish, and not too outrageous, but …

“My old school colours, so I’d rather not,” Eita laughed, but he liked the way the man’s mind worked.

“Azumane suggested blacks and whites, with a billowy type of shirt.”

“OOOOH, you’ve seen Azumane, have you? Now, there’s a man who knows about style! Well, I have plenty of shirts, if you want to go down that route. Frilly lace cuff and collar.”

“Too fussy and Pirates are a bit old hat,” Konoha pronounced, then seized something off a shelf. “This old hat, however, is gorgeous with a capital g!” With a smirk, he placed a floppy black and white striped hat atop Eita’s head, slanting it to the side. “Voila! It’s like a beret but with more … uh … aplomb!”

Catching sight of himself in a mottled mirror, seeing a stranger stare back at him, he snatched it off self-consciously. “Not my thing,” he muttered, handing it back to Konoha.

“It would be a crime to cover up that glorious hair!” Abe reprimanded.

Konoha rolled his eyes, and his turned attention to the clothes. “What was I thinking?” He began to hum tunelessly, his fingers flicking through the hangers, pulling some out then shaking his head before putting them back, occasionally setting something aside, while Abe steered Eita towards the shirt rack telling him to try anything on he fancied.

“Have you got black trousers with you,” Konoha asked.

“Y-es, but they’re quite … um … old and loose.”

“Okay, how about these?” He held up a pair of what looked like skinny jeans but weren’t denim, and as Eita got closer he saw they were black suede, with small diamond shaped studs sewn into the seams.

“You reckon I could get away with them?”

“You’re the lead singer. You can get away with anything.”

“Try them on,” Abe exhorted, steering him towards a changing room as he handed over a pile of shirts.

Unlike the mirror in the shop, the changing room contained a newer one, freestanding and angled so Eita could see his whole body. The lighting was better too, not harsh fluorescent, but bright enough that he could see the detail sewn into the trousers, and the stitching on the shirts.

He frowned at the shirts. Azumane had drawn something loose and flowing, and on paper it had looked fine, but the reality …

“Can we look?” Konoha called, twitching at the curtain.

“You can. But there’s nothing…” He pulled back the curtain and flipped at the ruffles down the front. “This is too much.”

“Detracts from the face and hair,” Abe said. “Hmmm, something plainer then, maybe off the shoulder?”

“Black?” Konoha suggested. “The trousers look great. Can you move in them? Freely I mean?”

Gyrating his hips in a figure eight until they all pronounced themselves satisfied in his mobility, Eita closed the curtain and tried on another shirt. This was black, with faint black embossing, but not intrusive like the frills. There was a tie at the neck, but he left it undone, displaying his neck and collarbones. He stared at the person in the mirror, needing a moment to collect himself, to see whether it was a person he liked staring back and not a sham. And the picture on his mum’s album came back into his head.

_Almost._

“Oh, yes, that’s better,” Abe declared.

“Where’s Konoha?”

“Doesn’t like being left out, so he’s trying on the caramel shirt,” Abe said, a touch waspishly.

“Which I look great in,” came a voice from the next changing room, “but what actually tips the balance is this amazing—” He pulled back the curtain, sauntered out hands on his hips, not only showing off the shirt which was the exact honey colour of his hair, but a long black sleeveless jacket emblazoned with lightning strikes and silver fur around the collar.

Eita gaped. “That’s gorgeous.”

“I’m not a ‘that’, but thank you,” Konoha replied, then blinked. “Oh, you mean the shirt.”

“No, the coat actually, but the whole ensemble is …”

“Cool, right? Think I’ll wear it tonight. How much, Abe-san?”

“Are you sure?” Abe asked. “Far be it for me to criticise, but I think this one is better.” Handing Konoha a short velvet jacket with buckles instead of buttons, he added, “This is a steal, and far more your style.”

“It’s twice the price of this beauty!” Konoha complained.

“Well, if you don’t object to looking like a squirrel,” he huffed.

Konoha scowled. “Not at all. The shirt and the _long_ coat, please.”

And that, Eita guessed, was that.

He bought the trousers and shirt, and picked up a wooden black crucifix from a straw basket on the counter, which Abe said he could have for free. Then after leaving the shop with Konoha also clutching a large bag, they wandered out into the main street.

“That was painless!” Eita chuckled. “I was expecting a far more intense shopping session. Usually I try on tons of stuff before bringing home something dull and samey.”

“It’s Abe-san’s mirrors. They’re very persuasive. But also …” Stopping, he leant against a shop front. “Azumane’s advice about the image, the picture you’ve seen in the past, I think that was your turning point.”

“That, and I’m no longer at school, or confined in a suit.”

“There are other shops I can take you to, by the way. Platform, silver boots, perhaps?” He grinned.

Shaking his head, Eita stood next to him. “I’m good. And I’ll stick to my flats – don’t want to flail and fall on stage. You should become a stylist, Konoha-kun.”

“A sideline. I’m interested in more seismic occurrences.”

“Like what?”

Konoha smirked and levered himself away from the shop wall. “Well, _actual_ seismic occurrences for one thing. Earthquakes, that sort of thing. As we have a lot of free time, do you fancy doing something else? Or do you need to rush off?”

“I’m free as a bird until three,” Eita replied, adding, “Or when Tendou crashes the party, which possibly only gives me an hour.”

“Okay, let’s hang around here. It’s pretty buzzy even in the morning. We can listen to music, watch street theatre. And if you want to do the tourist thing, then I know a great spot for photos.”

“I’ve taken them before,” Eita replied, but held up his phone. “Smile, Konoha-kun.”

He did. His lopsided almost smirk, then pulled out his own, and leant in close. “Selfie?” he suggested.

With heads touching, smiling up at the screen, as Konoha clicked, Semi blew some hair off his face, laughing and the moment captured was one of him pouting a kiss at the camera. He caught the scent of Konaha’s skin, a faint smell of citrus, and wondered what would happen if they stayed this close for longer. He could turn his head, count to three, then press his lips to Konoha’s cheek, or perhaps his mouth if he turned too.

“Uh… I have something I really should tell you,” Konoha murmured. “Because I … kind of like—”

Eita tensed. “What? Oh… you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Uh, no … nothing like that. It’s about tonight and—”

But before he could get the sentence out, a figure bounded towards them. A man in purple trousers and a lilac tee leapt at Eita.

“Hey! SEMISEMI!!!! Ya miss me?”

“Tendou!”

He raised his hands in the air. “It’s me! And you…” He turned swiftly, taking in Konoha and a smile crept over his face. “Konohaaaaaaaaaaaa, my dude! I had no idea you were the guy he was bein’ all secretive about.”

“I wasn’t being secretive,” Eita lied. “And I said you knew each other. Konoha-san took pity on a stranger.”

“I bet he did. So, what ya been up to?” he asked, and draped his arm across Eita’s shoulders.

“Shopping,” Eita replied, and held up his bag. “Clothes for tonight, and before you start complaining, Konoha helped pick them out.”

“I might trust his judgement,” Tendou muttered, and peeked into the bag. “Black? BLACK? What are you thinking? How’s he supposed to stand out? This is no good at all. Right, it’s a good job I’m here with clothes you can borrow.”

“What bag?”

“I dropped it off at our hotel,” Tendou replied. He turned to Konoha, ruffling his hair. “Anyway, how are you doing back in the big city? It’s been a while, so it’ll be good to catch up. And you’re at the gig tonight, of course.”

“Yeah.” Konoha coughed, and moved his head away from Tendou’s hand. “I’m … yeah, I’ll be there. And it’s good to see you, too, Tendou. You’re as loud and lively as ever.”

“Gonna take us to the skytree?” Tendou asked, and flopped his head on Eita’s shoulder. “C’mon, us couple o’ country kids need to see the sights.”

Konoha stepped away. He still had a smile on his face, but his eyes had lost their teasing sparkle. “Not this time. We’ll be queuing for ages. Look, I’ll leave you guys to … um … catch up. And… see you both tonight?”

“You will indeed,” Tendou answered.

“Konoha… you don’t have to go,” Eita called out, and strode towards him. He lowered his voice. “You were going to tell me something.”

“Ah, it’s not important.” He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “You’ll find out soon enough. Anyway, enjoy your reunion!”

“Reunion?” Eita blinked, ready to pull Konoha back, but with his bag over his shoulder, he slipped off into the crowd.

“Something I said?” Tendou enquired, looking puzzled.

“No idea.”

“Did I ruin the moment?”

_Had there been a moment?_

“No idea about that, either.”

“Only, he’s cute,” Tendou said, and pulled on Eita’s hand, raising it to his lips. “And so are you. But …” A wicked grin slid across his face. “He has no idea about standing out in a crowd.”

He was too nervous for lunch, despite Tendou urging him to eat.

“You gotta keep your strength up!”

“The irony of you telling me to eat escapes you, doesn’t it,” he replied sourly, stirring his noodles with all the enthusiasm of attending practise after a gruelling match. “It’ll sit badly in my stomach. I don’t think yocking up on stage is quite how memorable I want to be.”

Tendou cackled. “Wear the shirt I suggested and no one’ll know.”

“I like what I’ve got. Even you said the trousers were good.”

“I guess,” Tendou sighed. “How much time before we head to the college?”

“Hour and a half.”

“Then … back to the room and …” He bared his teeth, which to anyone else would have looked intimidating, but Eita rolled his eyes.

“What for?”

“Anime time!”

“You’re such a child.”

“You love me though, Semimimi!”

“Not if you call me that ridiculous name.” Taking in one more mouthful, he swallowed the noodles down, felt his stomach cramp and pushed the bowl away. “I’ll buy some snacks on the way.”

Having Tendou around did at least do something to quell his nerves. It was hard to feel jittery when Tendou was distracting him with a constant narrative on the show he was watching, whilst simultaneously throwing peanuts in the air and catching them in his mouth. And by the time they left the hotel, he was calm enough to breathe easy.

“You sure you don’t want to take one of my shirts along? What if you spill something on it?”

“Then I’ll go on shirtless. Thanks anyway, but I need to feel right, you know, and your style isn’t mine.”

“Sure.” Sticking his hands in his pockets, he allowed Eita to lead the way to the campus, and hung back when Eita greeted the band.

The laborious business of setting up wasn’t helped by the fact there were seven bands performing, so to simplify things, the engineers at the university were devising a basic stage and equipment, and taking specific cues as the bands rehearsed. It was Eita’s first chance to hear the competition, and as he listened he realised it was neither as clear cut nor as hopeless as he thought. The eclectic mix of music styles would either rub the audience up the wrong way or get them moving, and although local bias might come into it, the fact this was at a university and full of students not just from Tokyo, gave him the boost in confidence he needed.

“Need to check levels!” the sound engineer called. “Is Akinori here yet?”

Akinori? Eita looked around, saw Tendou perk up, and felt his stomach flip as if filled with popping popcorn.

“Yo, I’m here,” said a voice.

Konoha’s voice.

Konoha Akinori, dressed in scruffy jeans and a checked shirt slid into the hall. “Sorry, got held up. What’s up?”

“Levels. Give us your spiel, will you?”

His spiel?

“Tendou… did you know about this?”

“Hmm? What he didn’t tell you? Konoha’s the compère. He organised this, which was how I got to hear about it. Jeez what a horrible shirt. Is it one of yours?”

Ignoring the insult, he punched Tendou on the arm. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why would I? I didn’t know you’d met. Then when I did, I assumed that’s how you got talking.” He stuck his hand up, waving. “Woohoo, Konohaaaaa, we can’t hear youuuuu at the back.”

“Because I’m not miked up you dumbASS!” He boomed out the end of the word. “OOOH! Now I am. How’s this? Testing testing.”

“Carry on!” the sound engineer ordered.

“Welcome everyone to the fourth Battle of the Bands, and what a night we have in store for you. Yadder, yadder, yadder, fill, fill, fill.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Wanna see my moves?” he asked, shading his eyes as a spotlight suddenly fell on him.

“Not really,” yelled a girl on the lighting rig. “But if that’s where you’re going to stand most of the time, can you make sure you mark it?”

“Yup,” Konoha replied, and crouching down he pulled out a roll of gaffer tape, sticking a cross of two strips on the floor. “Anything else?”

“Which side are you coming on from, Konoho-kun?”

“Stage left.”

“Great,” she said and waved him off. “Done with you now.”

As he mooched off the stage, keeping his eyes on the floor, he stuck his hands in his pockets and meandered over where Eita and Tendou were sitting.

“Sorry, I should have mentioned it,” he began, directing a shambling type of look at Eita. “But, I didn’t want you to think you had to … um … impress me. Does that make sense?”

“I suppose,” Eita muttered. “You could have said something though!”

“Well, I also thought you probably knew as Tendou entered you, but then I realised you really _weren’t_ kidding when you said I didn’t have to be there. You weren’t being snarky, so I … uh … kept quiet.” He flopped into a chair in front of them. “Friends?”

“Only if you shout me ice cream, Konohahaha.”

“You’re getting nothing, TenTen.”

“Just why are you wearing such a horrible shirt? Has Semi been advising you on sartorial choices?”

“Hey!” Semi punched him again.

“Why would I want to ruin good stuff when I’ve been lugging equipment and clearing the stage?” Konoha retorted. “I’m not just the compère, but chief stage hand.” Directing his next words away from Tendou, he twisted around to Eita. “Have you had a good afternoon?”

“Spent most of it in the bedroom,” Eita said, without thinking, and then he blinked, seeing Konoha flinch. “No, _not_ like that.”

“I’m not sure what ‘that’ you mean,” he mumbled, “but I’m glad you two are … uh … getting on.”

“No. It really isn’t like that. Tell him, Tendou.”

“I demanded we go back to the bedroom,” Tendou declared, his hand on his heart. “So I could watch anime. Semi kept himself pure while he tried on my clothes, declared he hated them all, then gargled with fifty three types of mouth wash and scrubbed his teeth.” He crinkled his eyes. “He’s minty-fresh, and extra cute, don’t ya think?”

“So … uh … you two aren’t seeing each other?”

“Not now,” Tendou drawled. “Long, long ago, in a school far away …” The he snorted. “We were eighteen. We went out, split up, yet stayed friends. Sometimes that happens.”

“I wouldn’t say friends,” Eita mocked. “More like I put up with him.”

“Because I make you laugh.” Tendou retorted, and pulled his goofiest face as he pulled him into an embrace. “And he can’t get rid of me.” Then he jumped to his feet. “Anywaaaay, I’m outta manga, so I’m going to nip to your finest college shop and see what you city types are reading. Catch ya later!”

Which was about as subtle as Tendou could get.

“Are you annoyed with me?” Konoha murmured into the silence.

“No. Surprised, I suppose, but… I take it this means you have to be unbiased and can’t cheer loudly for us.”

Leaning over the back of the chair, he winked and lowered his voice. “I’ll have to be sneaky about it, but I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“Hope so.” He shivered a little, nerves creeping up on him.

“Hey, I heard you warming up. You’ve got an amazing voice, your vibe’s good and now you’ve got the look…” Reaching out, he tousled Eita’s hair, twisting a tress between his fingers as his fingertips dusted Eita’s cheek. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. And now … my bias is showing, so I better leave and talk to the other bands. I’ll see you later, yeah? And not that you’ll need it, but good luck.”

He watched Konoha circulate, touring the room introducing himself politely to some groups, and with familiarity to others. He was natural, not a showman, more important than that because he had an instinctive way about him to put the other person at their ease.

If only I could harness that, he thought, but just as he was taking some deep breaths to quell the onslaught of butterflies, their keyboard player tapped him on the shoulder.

“Semi-kun, we found a music room we can practise in,” she said. “Come on.”

With something to concentrate on, his nerves calmed. It had never been this bad before a match, but then he’d had a strong team around him, and even when he’d stepped up to deliver a serve, he’d been able to shut down the crowd and his jitters by focusing all his attention on the ball.

Tendou returned with a bag of snacks for the band, and at least five new mangas. “Gotta have something to keep me occupied, or else I’ll get into trouble,” he warned, with a manic grin. “Where’s the fabulous Konoha?”

“Busy.”

“Aww, you missing him?”

“Don’t be a child!”

“Ouch, you are touchy. You must have it bad.”

“Have what bad?”

“You know,” Tendou sang. “I don’t blame you. He is hot.”

“Have you… and him …”

Oh god, that really would put a kybosh on anything.

“If only,” Tendou replied, and cupping his hands around his chin, he fluttered his eyelashes and gazed dreamily into the distance. The next minute he’d gurgled out a laugh. “Nope. Y’know, there’s something quite relieving to find two gorgeous people aren’t remotely attracted to each other. Maybe it’s cuz we’re too similar.”

“Please.” Eita held up his hand. “You’re not remotely alike.”

Tendou assumed a wounded expression. “I’m hurt, Semisemi!”

“And will you stop calling me that!”

“Never.” But a smile ghosted his lips as he pressed them to Eita’s temple. “Go get him, Eita-kun!”

Despite the good rehearsal, the great clothes and the fact that the first band got off to a bad start, Eita was shaking as he waited in the wings. He tried to focus on the second band, but his mind careened from their first song, to five girls in the front row who screamed every time the singer opened his mouth, and then all of a sudden there was a lump in his throat, his boots felt too tight, and he could not stop a clenching wave of nausea streaking through him.

_Why the fuck are we here? Can I leave now? Why the hell did I buy these clothes? I look dumb. I look—_

“Hey.” Konoha touched his elbow. “You ready?”

“Not in the slightest. Can we scratch?” He tried to laugh it off, but his voice cracked.

Spinning him round, Konoha stared into his eyes, then reached up and traced his fingers down Eita’s cheek. “You’ll be fine. Better than fine. You’re going to be amazing. And you look …” He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “Actually, you’re missing something.”

“What? We’re going on in fifteen minutes and now you tell me!”

He smiled back, then from behind his back he presented an item of clothing to Eita.

“How about you wear this?” he whispered, and handed over a long jacket.

His jacket. The sleeveless coat he’d bought that morning with the silver fur collar and lightning flashes.

“This is yours.”

“Abe was right. I look like a squirrel,” he muttered, and held it out helping Eita slip his arms into it. “You, however, look gorgeous.”

“This is dumb. I know I’ll be okay once the music stops. I always am, but what if this time I’m not?” he whispered. “What if I fuck up?”

Konoha smoothed his fingers into the collar, then tousled Eita’s hair, twisting it into a spike between his fingers and thumb. “Will anyone die if you fuck up?”

“What?”

“Or be badly maimed?”

“No!”

“Then … enjoy.” He checked himself. “Sorry, that’s the sort of thing I used to say to myself before a match. Thought it might help.”

Breathing in, he could hear the second band again. The girls at the front’s screaming intensified as the singer reached a rather cracking crescendo, and as he exhaled his fingers stopped trembling. “It does. Thank you.”

The song crashed to an end, “And that’s my cue,” Konoha whispered and started towards the stage. “Be brilliant.”

“Hey, Konoha,” Eita called, feeling not just light but bold

“What?”

“Want a drink after the show?”

“Counting on it!”

And his wink sent Eita’s senses into overdrive, anticipation far more potent than nerves.

“You were robbed!” Tendou declared.

“We were third,” Eita corrected him. “We’re happy with that. I’m happy with that.”

He hadn’t changed, apart from hanging Konoha’s coat over the back of the sofa as they waited in the atrium for him to appear. He’d shared beers with the band, high-fived them all as they left, the drummer driving overnight to get them home, so now he was left alone with Tendou recapturing the night.

“It did go well, didn’t it?”

“Superb!” Tendou declaimed. “You really were robbed. Best band there, but I guess Tokyo just ain’t ready for your sound, Semimi!”

“Running order didn’t help,” Konoha said, appearing with a bottle in his hand. “The top two played at the end, but you did well enough that the crowd remembered you. Hey, I salvaged a bottle of fizz. It’s not champagne but it goes down the same way.” He tore off the foil and pushed the cork out with his thumb, giving a little whoop when it popped.

“Can’t stand the stuff,” Tendou said, and brushing some invisible dust off his harlequin trousers, he stretched inelegantly and gave a noisy but very fake yawn. “I’m beat. Think I’ll go back to the hotel.”

“As subtle as those trousers,” Konoha quipped. “Now, I don’t have glasses, but I’ve got some mugs.”

“Perfect.”

They chinked their mugs, and Eita took a gulp of the drink. Bubbles prickled his tongue, and he smacked his lips together before taking some more.

“Sorry it’s not colder,” Konoha said.

“It’s fine.”

“We don’t have to drink it,” he gabbled. “If you’d like to go elsewhere, maybe back to the club, or if you’d rather find a livelier one…”

“Let’s finish this first and decide,” Eita murmured, and angled his body around to Konoha. “Thank you for earlier. In fact, thank you for everything you’ve done for me this weekend. I’m not sure I’d have got on stage without you.”

“If I’d not been there, your keyboard player would have kicked you on, Semi-kun,” Konoha replied.

“But I wouldn’t have had the clothes.”

“You’d have looked good whatever. But I’m glad you found something you liked. And the coat was amazing on you.” Konoha edged closer, topping up Eita’s cup with the wine. “Uh… I know we’ve only just met, but am I reading this wrong?”

“Reading what wrong?” Eita husked.

“There’s …uh …” He flicked his hand in the space between them. “Something happening here, don’t you think?”

“Maybe?” Eita’s lips twitched, and he moved so their knees were touching.

 _What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo,_ he thought.

“So if I kiss you,” Konoha muttered. “You’re not going to object.”

_What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo._

“Not in the slightest,” he breathed and inched forwards until there was a hair’s breadth between them.

Collecting both mugs, Konoha placed them on the floor, then moved his hands to cup Eita’s face. His lips were cool from the wine, but soft as he pouted them to Eita’s mouth. A beat later and Eita had parted his lips and tangled his fingers into Konoha’s silky hair. And he wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, seconds or hours, he had no idea, but when they slid apart, his head was spinning more than it had from the drink, and his heart was thumping fast.

A whoop and cheer from a crowd leaving the building brought Konoha tentatively to his senses. “Not the most private of places.”

“Want to take this somewhere else?” Eita asked, and slid his hand over Konoha’s knee.

“Whoa, you sure? Only …”

“I leave tomorrow,” Eita said. “And all I’ve been thinking since I met you is that this is always going to be fleeting, so …” He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves and the quaver in his voice, but there was no music to distract him, no team to back him up, and Konoha’s gaze was liquefying his stomach. He twisted away, clasping his hands over his face.

Konoha sat silent, and the tension increased as the silence solidified between them.

“Are you okay?”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought if I pressed forward then I could … well … I am only here for another night and ‘What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo’ right?” He gulped and started to laugh helplessly. “I am so bad at this.”

“Oh.”

He heard Konoha pick up his mug and take another drink.

“Sorry.”

“No… it’s fine. Look are you saying that because you’re in Tokyo you just wanted a … a … quick bunk up? I mean, it’s not that I’m against it, but if you can’t go through with it, then that’s fine too and we can just drink this, and then talk or whatever.”

“I’m saying that one night stands aren’t my thing,” Eita replied. He clenched his hands and stared at the floor. “Not that I’m not tempted because I’m very attracted to you.” Peeping from under his lashes, he saw Konoha’s smirk soften into something a little sadder. “But you’re also a nice guy that I’d like to at least stay in touch with, and maybe having a one night stand isn’t the best way to go about that.”

“What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo, eh?” Konoha said, and handed Eita back his mug.

“Dumb, I know. It’s not like you’re on the other side of the world. We’re relatively close if you think about it, but—” He stopped as Konoha placed a finger on his mouth, then smoothed it across his lips to stroke his cheek.

“And could get closer,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“My thesis is done and I’m about to join the real world instead of academia,” Konoha explained. “I’ve … uh … accepted a job in Sendai at the Geological Centre.”

“So… what happens in Tokyo…”

“Could continue in Sendai?” Konoha suggested, screwing up his face. “Is that bad?”

And then Eita smiled. Picking up the wine, he shared the rest of it between them, and shivered in anticipation. “No, that’s good!”

“You’re cold. Put the coat on,” Konoha chided, and reaching for it, he draped it over Eita’s shoulders.

“It’s your coat.”

“How about you keep it for me until I get to Sendai?”

The collar was warm on his skin, sending a delicious thrill through his body, but not half as delicious as the next kiss they shared.


End file.
